


Fault

by Zdenocharazard



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Break Up, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 19:50:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zdenocharazard/pseuds/Zdenocharazard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brooks couldn’t look at Mike anymore. He couldn’t be around him, couldn’t be in that apartment with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fault

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the lovely littlesnowpea. She thinks I should expand this, but I don't know. What do you guys think? Comments and kudos would be lovely )))))

It’s not Mike’s fault. It’s not Nicklas’ fault, either. 

It’s Brooks’ fault and he accepts that. He accepts the fact that Mike’s eyes always wander to Nicky when they’re together. He accepts the fact that he’s not good enough for Mike anymore. 

Mike and Brooks decided that during the lockout they’d stay together, but they’ve only been drifting farther and farther apart. Mike doesn’t want to do anything with Brooks. He’s irritable and insatiable, and Brooks can’t satisfy him anymore. And the worst part is that Mike’s always on his phone, either texting or calling Nicky. 

Brooks was in the kitchen when Mike walked in, furiously texting on his phone. 

“Hey.” Brooks greeted from the stove.

“Hey.” Mike mumbled, not even bothering to look up from his phone. 

“Is that Nicky?” Brooks shouldn’t have said anything because he knew how Mike would react. But he just had to ask.  
“No.” Mike spat out, finally looking up at Brooks. 

“Oh,” Brooks managed, keeping his voice level. 

“What do you mean ‘oh’ ?” Mike snapped, eyes narrowing.

“Nothing,” Brooks muttered under his breath, turning back to the stove.

Mike walked over and grabbed one of the plates of pasta Brooks had dished out and started to storm out of the room.

"Where are you going?" Brooks demanded in confusion. 

“Upstairs!” Mike shouted back.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few hours later, Brooks ventured up to the room they shared to change into his pajamas. Brooks hated the fact that he couldn’t call it “their room” anymore. It hadn’t been “their room” for a long time. It was just a room that they shared and they were like roommates again with their own separate lives. 

When he walked into the bedroom the tv was on, but muted and Mike was lying on the bed laughing at something on his phone. ‘Probably Nicky,’ was Brook’s immediate bitter thought. Brooks sat at the edge of the bed, his back towards Mike.

“Do you still love me?” The question was sudden. 

“Of course.” but Mike’s response was forced and Brooks wanted to cry. 

“Do you still wanna be with me?” Brooks kept his jaw clenched, kept his voice steady, and blinked back the tears blurring his vision. 

Nothing. Mike said nothing. 

Brooks finally broke. 

“Say something!” He got up from the edge of the bed to look at Mike, but Mike just stared at his phone. “Mike.”

Mike still didn’t respond, laying in bed in complete silence.

Brooks let the tears fall. 

“So what, do you want to break up? Do want me to move out? What do you want, Mike?” Brooks was hysterical now, borderline desperate. “Say something!” 

Mike still did not reply, looking at his phone and not his boyfriend.

“Fine.” Brooks stalked to the closet to grab his suitcase, unzipping it and throwing it on the bed next to Mike. He turned back and started violently throwing clothes into the suitcase. 

“What are you doing, Brooksy?” Mike’s voice was quiet. 

“I’m leaving.” Brooks’ voice hitched. 

Brooks couldn’t believe that this was happening. He couldn’t believe that any of this was happening. 

But he mostly couldn’t believe that this had gotten that bad.

He was leaned against the doorframe of the closet, clutching a ratty, old Hershey Bears shirt when Mike finally spoke. 

“This is hard on me too, you know?”

“Shut up,” Brooks snapped. “You’ve been waiting for me to leave for a long time.”  
Brooks’ face was sticky with tears and his throat was thick with spit. 

Mike was fidgeting with his phone, looking at anything other than Brooks.

“Where are you gonna go?” he asked as Brooks zipped up his suitcase. 

Brooks wiped at his eyes, “Back home, probably.” His voice was hoarse, “You gonna go anywhere?” 

Please don’t say you’re gonna go see Nicky, Brooks thought. 

“I was thinking about going to Russia.”

That was it, Brooks couldn’t look at Mike anymore. He couldn’t be around him, couldn’t be in that apartment with him. 

He left. 

Left the apartment, left D.C., left the U.S.-but mostly, he left Mike.


End file.
